He was reading, or writing, or something of that kind.

He was certainly not Schillingschen.

We hurried.

Fred presently broke into a run; then, half-ashamed, checked himself and waited for me, who was beyond running.
When we came quite close we saw that the man was playing chess all by himself with a folding board open on his knees.

He did not look up, although by that time he surely should have heard us.